First Year
by dyingcowlaugh
Summary: A story following Merlin as he begins his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
1. Chapter 1

_Merlin_ and _Harry Potter_ don't belong to me.

* * *

The Lake of Avalon was a peaceful place, one that offered sanctuary and serenity to man and beast alike. Now, however, its calming waters did not appear to relax the mind of the old man wearing a blue tunic who was sitting at the bank. He was lost in thought, pondering a place beyond the lake.

Of course he had heard about the school. He was especially proud of its creation, having watched it come into existence from the sidelines. It showed a turn from the old ways, when those with magic were hunted down and murdered. He was glad for that. He really was. And he could feel his curiosity spike at every mention of the school.

But he didn't know whether he wanted to go.

It would have been easy to shrink his stature and visit the school from the first day the doors opened. The disguise was no problem. He was sure if he ever were to visit, there would be no way he'd reveal himself as a centuries-old warlock. They shouldn't remember his name either. His role as Arthur's servant had likely already faded into the annals of history.

If he truly thought about it, he was scared.

He was scared that upon arrival, he would make new acquaintances, people who would never compare to what he'd lost, and, even if he was able to forge friendships, it would only be a matter of time before he was left alone again.

He had known about the school from the start, watched as its founders grew old and passed on, watched as the first generations aged and were replaced again and again by their children. And all the while, he'd stood by, waiting and hoping his curiosity would fade, and he would be left alone without any other losses to mourn.

Of course, he knew waiting would never work.

It didn't help that he'd been receiving letters from the school since it first began. He wasn't sure why. He had never made himself known to the founders of the school and had no idea how owls kept finding him, bringing him thick packages of parchment and encouraging him to attend. Each year, he'd resolutely written back a letter of declination and hoped it would be enough to encourage an end to the letters. But, this year when he received the owl, he felt more called to attend than he had the in the past century. It could have been his magic pulling him towards some lurking threat, but the sorcerer had a feeling it was simply the need to once again find himself busy practicing magic, strengthening himself for the day of Arthur's return. That could still be any day, and how could he live with himself if there was something out there he could use to better protect the king and he didn't learn it due to sheer stubbornness. He could place charms around the lake, little things which would let him know if anything threatened Arthur in his absence because, in the end, learning was something he had to do.

He was curious anyway, and as long as he was waiting…

Merlin was almost as nervous as when he had set off on his initial journey to Camelot. Well, perhaps not _that_ nervous. His journey to Camelot could have ended in his death. This was just a small jaunt to the town of London, where, hopefully, he would find a wand, something which was needed to begin his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He wasn't sure why he needed one, but after almost seven hundred years of waiting, perhaps it was time to try something new.

He'd de-aged himself physically to pass as an eleven-year-old, found a smaller gray tunic and brown boots like those he'd worn in Camelot. And perhaps the spell that had caused his body to become youthful contributed to the queasiness in his stomach, but he wasn't able to completely fool himself into believing it. More likely, it was because, for the first time in centuries, he'd be leaving Avalon and, thus, be leaving Arthur behind. He pushed the thought aside and, swallowing his nervousness, steeled himself for the short trip ahead. " _Mynd â fi i Lundain_!" His eyes glowed solid gold, and the warlock had vanished.

When he reappeared, he was standing in the middle of a dirt road cutting through a grassy field. It was drizzling and the air was damp, but he could still make out a town in the distance. Hopefully, that was London. He wasn't anxious to try another transportation spell. If he was lucky, he'd learn a better spell at school, one which wouldn't jostle his insides so much. Now a more nauseous than when he'd left, Merlin sat in the wet grass at the side of the road. It wasn't the first time he'd performed one of these spells, yet he never could get used to the almost violent manner in which he would be thrown through the air to his destination.

Hoping to find something to distract him from the nasty feeling in his gut, he opened the letter the owl had brought him, rereading the carefully penned words he'd seen more than a hundred times:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmistress: Idonea Ryall

Dear Master Emrys,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Godwin Morecott

Deputy Headmaster

The names weren't always the same. They had changed every fifty years or so. The format of the letter never changed, though. He knew, past the first page, there would be a list of items he needed to procure and gave him several locations where he would find something called a "portkey" which would take him to the school.

He pulled one of the final pages to the front and read it slowly. This was what he was in London for, a wand. Merlin knew it wasn't the best idea to purchase his wand the day before he would leave for school, but this had felt the most final. After buying it, he couldn't back down; he would have to learn how to use it. The page he was looking at described how to find the wand shop. It was on the outskirts of town and had numerous muggle-repelling charms, whatever that meant, to the point where only those with magic would see the shop and, even then, only once they were close to it. He was not sure how he'd find it, but he was hoping he'd stumble across it before the day was done.

Feeling much less nauseous, he tucked the letter back into the knapsack he carried and stood. The town was not far in the distance. He should be able to make it to the shop well before nightfall. As he began walking, he noticed a building he'd completely missed in his first few glances toward the town. It was a short building, dark in color, but very prominent in the landscape. How had he missed it? Picking up his pace, he altered his path to arrive at the front of the building. Looking up at the sign above the black door, he read:

OLLIVANDERS: _Makers of Fine Wands since 328 BC_

It seemed he had found the last supply he needed to purchase and the one he was most curious about. Never much one for waiting, he pushed the door open and heard a small chime somewhere deeper in the shop. There were countless shelves in the front room and the building seemed, almost, bigger on the inside. He heard footsteps from somewhere in the shop and a young man appeared in the front room. His turquoise eyes sparkled cheerily, and he ran a hand over the mop of blond hair on his head.

"Good afternoon, young sir. I am Geraint Ollivander." The man smiled, appearing in the warlock's mind as a bit overly happy.

"Merlin, sir. Good afternoon," Merlin responded, almost cautiously. Seeming to recognize his customer's doubtfulness, the man let his face slide back into a more neutral emotion.

"Here to purchase a wand, Merlin?" The boy nodded. "I'll see if I can find something for you." He turned and made his way back along the shelves, returning with a long box. He opened it, revealing the polished wood inside. "Why don't we try this?" Merlin stared questioningly. "Just pick it up." Before Merlin had even touched the wand, there was an explosive sound, and he pulled back his hand as an oppressive heat attacked the nerves in his hand. Ollivander scooped the wand back into the box and carried it to the back of the store, muttering to himself. He returned again with another box. "Ash and dragon heartstring, brittle." Upon touching the wand, the windows to the shop shattered.

After another twenty minutes (and several more accidents), it seemed to Merlin as though they were no closer to finding a wand than when they began. Finally, his demeanor never revealing any semblance of frustration, Ollivander brought out another box. "Try this." Merlin eyed the wand warily. "It's a phoenix feather. I won't put another dragon heartstring in front of you, not after last time." He grinned and glanced towards the half of the table now in splinters. Merlin grimaced but put his hand above the wand. For a few moments, he waited, as if expecting something terrible to happen. When nothing did, he lowered his hand and took the wand from the box. The room was filled with a sunlit glow and, almost immediately, the damage wrought by the previous wands started fixing itself. As the glow died, Merlin was enveloped with a deep sense of calm and the melancholy enveloping him since Arthur's death vanished.

As the feeling faded, Merlin realized he'd closed his eyes. Opening them again he was met by Ollivander's joyful visage. "Wonderful!" He smiled from ear to ear. "What you have there, Merlin, is a vine wand with the core of a phoenix feather. Mostly supple and slightly longer than average. A fine wand."

"Thank you," Merlin said, staring at the wand in his hands, rather plain. Despite its outward appearance, he could almost feel the potential for power it held, a clear way to augment his own magical strength.

"My pleasure."

Merlin paid the man an odd assortment of money, one he had yet to master, and exited the shop. As he directed his steps towards the town, he looked back at the shop only to find himself looking at an empty field.

The next evening found Merlin making his way towards the westward bend of the River Thames in his school robes, cursing his eleven-year-old legs for their short strides. As he was walking, he heard the murmuring of voices to his right and turned to see a group of nine or so people heading in the same direction. Two men led the group, and, as they came closer, the one on the left noticed him.

"Good evening!" the red-robed wizard called. Merlin raised his hand to return the greeting. There was no doubt in his mind these people were looking for the same "portkey" he was. The group was soon upon him and the man who'd called out before held out his hand. "Good day. Are you looking for something out here?" Merlin nodded.

"Yes. Although, I'm not sure what I should be looking for." The second man scoffed and shot the young warlock a skeptical look. The red-robed wizard smiled good-naturedly.

"A portkey, perhaps?" At Merlin's nod of confirmation, he continued, "Accompany us, then. I'm Stephen Abbott." He gestured to the people standing behind him. "This is my wife, Joan; our son, Adam; and daughter, Eva. Adam will be beginning his fourth year and Eva is a first year." The man, Stephen, looked at his companion.

"Who are you?" the latter asked stiffly.

"Merlin Emrys, sir." He was surprised by the momentary look of shock on the man's face, one quickly smothered by another calculating look.

"Merlin? Your parents must be quite confident in your talent."

"Oh, be nice Cygnus," someone spoke from behind him. Merlin glanced towards the speaker and was surprised he hadn't noticed her earlier. She had brilliant red hair and green eyes which reminded the young sorcerer of Morgana had the latter never lost her carefree gaze. "Where are your parents?" Merlin swallowed hard. He didn't have a prepared excuse for why he'd been travelling alone. The thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"My father died some years ago and my mother is in a village very far from here. I thought it best if she didn't have to make the long journey." Not to mention she had been dead for centuries. There was a tightness in his throat, and he did his best to ignore it as the red-head continued to speak.

"She didn't want to see you off?"

"She can't get around as easily as she used to," he replied, working to conceal the grimace pulling at his face.

"Ah." The woman changed the subject, recognizing what would be a sore spot for any child travelling alone. "This is my husband Cygnus Black. I am Katharine. Our sons Scorpius, Orion, and Corvus are also attending Hogwarts." The three boys standing behind her nodded curtly towards Merlin. She held out her hand. "It's good to meet you, Merlin."

"And you as well," he said, shaking the proffered hand.

"Now we're all acquainted; we should hurry if we don't want to miss the portkey!" Stephen said, beginning to walk again. Merlin hung back as Cygnus returned to his position next to Stephen.

Merlin soon found himself walking at a much faster pace next to Eva Abbott.

"Hello. I'm Merlin," he said, forgetting his initial wariness of meeting new people.

"Hello, Merlin," she greeted.

"Are you looking forward to school?"

The girl nodded. "Each year Adam has gone, I have always cried to mother to go as well. And when two letters came this year, I was excited." She blushed at the emotion evident in her voice. "Yes. I am looking forward to it. Are you?"

"Yes. Although, I'm not sure what I should expect."

Eva took this as an opportunity to begin elatedly explaining what they, as first years, would do upon reaching Hogwarts. "When we arrive, we'll each be placed in one of four houses. They perform some sort of test to determine your house and you do everything with your house for the rest of your years at the school. Adam's in Ravenclaw." At the mention of his name, the older boy looked back at his sister and gave a soft smile.

"What are the other houses?" Merlin asked, confident the other founders would have named their houses after themselves, to keep Eva enthusiastically talking.

"Merlin's beard!" someone exclaimed behind him. Merlin turned to face the Blacks walking behind him.

"My _what_?"

Ignoring the question, the oldest boy continued to stare at Merlin. "How do you not know?"

"Know what?"

"About Hogwarts. Are you a mudblood?" he asked, voice drastically lower. The phrase sounded less like a question and more like an insult.

"Come off it, Scorpius." The youngest of the three brothers glared at the older. Merlin looked at Eva and noted the much paler color of her face as she pointedly ignored the conversation behind her.

"What are you going to do? Tell mum?" Scorpius smirked at his younger brother. Clearly not seeing the suggestion as a viable option, the younger huffed and crossed his arms. Scorpius turned his attention back to Merlin and began to say something but was interrupted by Stephen's greeting to someone ahead of them.

"Good evening, Stephen, Cygnus," a man standing several meters before them replied. As they walked up to meet him, Merlin hesitated. This was it. He would leave for the school. Momentarily, he thought of Arthur, and almost regretted leaving his post at Avalon. He considered turning, fleeing London and waiting a few centuries more before he again built up the courage to attend the wizarding school. Someone bumped against his right side, hard, and he was almost thrown off balance. Righting himself, he looked up at the smug face of Scorpius Black and his resolve was steeled. He would go, if only to prove to himself he could fit into the wizarding world and make new friends again. He seemed to be doing alright with Eva anyway.

"Adam, Scorpius, Orion," the man they had met greeted the three returning students. "And who do we have here?"

"This is my son Corvus," Cygnus introduced the youngest Black.

"My daughter, Eva," Stephen responded, "and this is Merlin Emrys." The third man raised his eyebrows upon hearing the name.

"Good to meet you, I'm Professor Lyfeld." He studied the warlock. "Merlin, is it? Ready to live up to your namesake?" He grinned at the surprised look which slipped onto Merlin's visage. "Quite a sorcerer, that old man Merlin." The man scanned the other faces in the group. "Is everyone ready?"

As final goodbyes were initiated, Merlin considered the man's words. Was he really that well-known? He knew he held a certain fame among the druids, but he had figured his failures with Arthur (no matter what Kilgharrah said they _were_ failures) would have helped his name fall from common knowledge within at least a decade after Camlaan. Apparently not. This unexpected preservation had, no doubt, something to do with Geoffrey of Monmouth. The man had said he was working on a history of Arthur's kingship. He'd thought those stories would just focus on Arthur himself. Now hiding his identity seemed much harder than it had before.

"Come, students." The professor was holding an old shoe. "Everyone, put a hand on the portkey." Merlin put his hand on the shoe, still unsure what a portkey did, and felt as though there was something pulling his gut and spinning him through the air.

When he could see clearly again, he found himself near a dark lake. Across the lake, a huge castle loomed in the distance. Hogwarts. Merlin smiled softly.

Here he was.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know if you'd like a second chapter. After that, I'm not sure whether or not I'll continue it.

Thanks to the betas MonJoh and ArthursSconeAngel!


	2. Chapter 2

Standard disclaimer

* * *

Eva, sitting next to him, leaned over and promptly vomited. Adam, who had landed near her, went to his sister and rubbed circles on her back as she continued to heave the contents of her stomach into the grass. Professor Lyfeld looked at the young girl and grimaced. "At the castle, we'll take her to Madam la Penne." A few more moments passed and Eva calmed. A breeze off the lake chilled Merlin as he stared back towards the castle and noticed a group of children standing closer to the edge of the water, barely silhouettes in the fading evening light. "If Eva's feeling a bit better, Adam, Scorpius, Orion, and I can accompany her back to the castle in the final carriage. Merlin and Corvus, if you go down to the water, you'll find the rest of the first years." The group stood and the professor led the three boys and Eva towards a path through the woods where a carriage waited. Merlin's eyes widened as his gaze fell upon the animal attached to the carriage. He wasn't sure what kind of creature it was and turned to the boy next to him.

"What's that pulling the carriage?"

Corvus gave him an odd look. "There isn't anything there."

Merlin stared back at the carriage then again at Corvus. "The horse-like thing with wings?" he asked, hoping Corvus would acknowledge the creature.

"The carriages are pulled with magic. There isn't anything there." He turned away from Merlin and walked towards the lake where the other first years waited. Giving one last glance to the carriage, Merlin followed.

"Good evening, first years," a red-headed man at the front of the group said. "I am Savill, the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts." He motioned to some boats near the water's edge. "Four to a boat please." The students boarded the boats, and, when all were situated, the boats started moving forward, seemingly of their own accord. Merlin was aware of multiple faint presences pulling each boat, but, because the groundskeeper didn't seem worried, he paid it little mind.

Upon reaching the castle, the first years were led through an impressive set of doors into a magnificent hallway where another man stood waiting. "Thank you, Savill," the man said, dismissing the groundskeeper with a nod. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Morecott, the deputy headmaster of Hogwarts." He smiled thinly, surveying the students. "Please put any bags or other excess belongings at the foot of the stairs. They will be put in your rooms after the Sorting." There was a great rush as the first years followed the deputy headmaster's directions. Merlin noticed that no one carried anything more than a small bag like his own. He had enlarged the inside of the knapsack he now placed at the bottom of the stairs and assumed the rest had done likewise. As the first years situated their belongings and returned to the clump they'd formed initially, Professor Morecott again began to speak.

"In a few moments, once those visiting Madam la Penne have returned, you will be escorted into the Great Hall where you will be sorted into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin house. These houses will be your family for the next years of your life. You will dine, attend classes, and live together. Your triumphs will earn points for your house, here at Hogwarts, while any rule-breaking will result in the loss of points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup." As he finished, a small group of students joined the first years, led by a dark-skinned woman dressed in white. Merlin assumed she was Madam la Penne. The lady said something to Morecott and gave a purposeful glance to the students who had accompanied her. Then, she turned and entered the hall through a side door. "Now that everyone is with us, please form some semblance of a line and follow me." Merlin found himself between Corvus Black and a pudgy brown-eyed boy by the name of Thomas.

As the first years filed into the hall, Merlin couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the ceiling which glowed a soft maroon with the reflection of the sky as it faded to night. Candles floated in the air, their cozy light illumining the entire hall. Its grandeur reminded him of Camelot, and, once again, a melancholy cloud seemed to descend upon him. He was distracted from his memories by the pointed hat sitting on a stool at the front of the hall below the professors' table, and was even more surprised when it began to sing from a tear near the brim.

"I was made some time long ago,

Endowed with thinking ability,

Yet I may seem unremarkable

And certainly not too pretty.

I will put you where you belong

For that is what I do.

I search the memories in your mind

To find your truest you.

Do you belong in Gryffindor,

Whose bravery is renown?

Or in the loyal Hufflepuff,

Where patience will surround?

Or, perhaps, in Ravenclaw,

Who seeks the highest learning?

Or in cunning Slytherin,

Where ambition is always stirring?

You'll find your place, I promise you

Even if you want to turn and run.

And one day wonder how I knew

What you would become."

As the hat finished its song, the students seated at the tables burst into applause. And as the applauding died down, Professor Morecott stepped forward with a roll of parchment in his hand. "When I call your name, please step forward and sit on the stool to be sorted." He looked down at the list in his hand.

"Abbott, Eva!"

Merlin's new acquaintance stepped out of line and rushed to the stool and pulled the hat on her head. After a moment, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" There was a cheer from one of the tables on the right as Eva ran to join her new housemates. Merlin caught sight of her brother sitting at a table to the left and noticed his face was spread in a grin.

"Ashton, Eustice!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Ayde, Thomas!"

The boy in front of Merlin sat on the stool at the front of the room.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table Adam sat at gave a rousing cheer at their new member.

"Bexley, Harris" went to Hufflepuff as well.

"Black, Corvus!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

There was loud cheering at the second table to Merlin's right, and he watched Corvus join his brothers on the bench.

"Crouch, Angela" was the first Gryffindor, followed by "Dencourt, Sarah." "Edwards, Quinton" went to Hufflepuff, and, then it was "Emrys, Merlin!"

Although he was ages older than everyone in the room, Merlin still felt his heart beat faster as he made his way towards the front of the hall. From what he could remember about the four founders, Gryffindor would have been the house Arthur would have been placed in, had he had any magical capabilities. And, because of this, he wasn't sure he wanted to be put there. He supposed the other three houses would be fine, and before he knew it, he was sitting in front of the Great Hall, the hat on his head, unaware of the whispers his name had elicited.

"Hello, Merlin," a small voice said in his ear. It sounded almost bittersweet. "How kind of you to finally join us."

 _I've been a little busy,_ he thought.

"Indeed." The hat paused. "But where should you go? I can see you aren't too keen to be put in Gryffindor, though that would certainly suit you. You would do well in any house. But you don't simply want to learn, do you? You have a powerful drive to protect and forceful ambition. Better be, SLYTHERIN!"

Merlin stood, removing the hat and walked towards the table cheering for him, albeit somewhat less than it had for the last new member. He sat next to Corvus near the end of the table. A Slytherin across from Corvus looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"I've never heard the surname Emrys," she said.

"I'm not from around here," Merlin said, realizing after an awkward silence the statement was more of prompting for him to explain himself.

"Oh," was the simple reply and the girl turned back to the Sorting ceremony. Merlin leaned towards Corvus.

"Why is everyone so concerned with who I am?" He knew Salazar Slytherin was a bit of a blood-purist but didn't think it would have been passed down through the centuries. As Corvus spoke, however, Merlin found he was sadly mistaken.

"They want to know whether you're a pure-blooded wizard. No one's ever heard of your last name which would be strange if your family was magic."

"Does it matter?"

"To them it does."

"Does it matter to you?" The young Black fidgeted in his seat.

"Mother says it shouldn't."

"So, it does?"

"Not as much as Scorpius." Merlin recalled the eldest Black's uncouthness towards him and sighed. A boy sat down across from the warlock. It appeared they had missed some of the Sorting.

"Rocelin Moryet," he said in greeting.

"Merlin."

"Corvus."

"Good to meet you." The boy smiled and turned his attention back to the ceremony.

The rest of the Sorting passed quickly, Slytherin gaining two more students (Grace Nott and Maria Travers). After "Weasley, Andrew" became a Gryffindor, Professor Morecott rolled up the scroll in his hand and removed the stool and hat from the front of the room.

The woman sitting in the center seat at the head table stood, and the room quieted.

"That's Headmistress Idonea Ryall," Corvus muttered to him. Merlin nodded his understanding. The headmistress wore dark red and blue robes, her gray-black hair pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head which was almost covered by a hat the same red color. She smiled kindly at the students.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." Her voice was warm. "After dinner, I will have some announcements but, for now, please eat!" At her words, the empty platters in front of Merlin were filled with food, and, as the smell of fresh game and exotic spices wafted into the air, he was suddenly aware of his hunger. He was almost shocked by the variety of food, not even Uther had eaten this well in Camelot. Piling what looked good onto his plate, he was, once again, reminded of Arthur and the copious amounts his king could eat. He would have loved this if he could have gotten over the fact food had just appeared out of thin air. The warlock gave a small smile and focused on the meal before him.

"What constitutes blood purity?" Rocelin asked Corvus as the three boys ate. Corvus looked up from his plate.

"Why do you ask?"

Rocelin shrugged. "I heard some people talking about it by the lake."

Corvus huffed, appearing uncomfortable with the line of questioning. "My family, and many of the other ancient wizarding families, extend far back in history. According to tradition, we've never married anyone who didn't have magic. You're not blood-pure if your family has."

"Oh." Rocelin looked at Merlin. "Are you a pureblood?"

"My father had magic," he said, turning his head to Corvus. "But Scorpius said–"

"You'd be a half-blood, then." Corvus gave him a half-smile. "For my family that's better than muggleborn."

"Even your mother?" At Merlin's question, Corvus looked back at the table.

"She's a Prewett. They're a lot less strict than the Blacks, but, so far, they haven't married into a muggle family. That's partially why father married her."

"What's a muggle?" Merlin asked.

"A non-magical person," Rocelin answered. Corvus gave him a questioning look, and he grinned. "My parents are both wizards. I just wondered what constituted a pureblood status." After that, Corvus seemed to relax enormously, and both he and Rocelin began to regale Merlin with stories about their families and the time before they came to Hogwarts. Merlin found he enjoyed listening to them talk and urged them on, subtly evading any questions about his own history. Before long, he and Corvus were laughing at some tale involving Rocelin's youngest sister, Floo powder, and a large cream pie. Soon the conversation turned back to Hogwarts.

"How do they know where to send the letters?" Merlin asked, the question had been gnawing at him for the past few centuries.

"They have a book somewhere up in the headmistress's office that has the name of every magical child born across the kingdoms." Rocelin answered.

"With a head like that, it's a wonder you aren't in Ravenclaw," Corvus teased as he pulled a particularly large slice of meat onto his tray.

Rocelin rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the owls are really good at finding people. I'm not sure how. But they can find you wherever you are."

"I heard that _Merlin_ Merlin was constantly chased by owls when Hogwarts was founded. When he died, the owls never did stop looking and now they circle his resting place for all eternity." Corvus grinned predatorially.

"Who told you that, your sister?" Rocelin taunted. Luckily, the two didn't notice Merlin's ears had turned red.

"Shove off. It's not like your owl would be much better." Corvus glared.

"Actually, mother made me take our cat, Rhomb. He's the nastiest old thing but she didn't want him in the house after he attacked Ave's head and terrified her out of her mind." Rocelin sighed. "They said they'd get me an owl, though, for the holidays."

"That's what I've got." Corvus puffed up his chest a bit. "His name is Seville, and he's a long-eared owl."

"You named your owl after the groundskeeper?" Merlin laughed at Rocelin's question.

"No!" Corvus's face flushed. "His name is Savill. My owl is Seville."

"It sounds the same to me."

"That's because you're uncultured."

"What a travesty," Rocelin drawled. "What did you bring, Merlin?"

"An owl."

"What's his name?"

"Archimedes."

"Sweet Merlin, Merlin!"

"What?"

" _Merlin_ Merlin had an owl named Archimedes," Corvus explained. Merlin's face went pale.

"Are you all right, Merlin?" Rocelin was giving the old warlock a strange look. Merlin schooled his expression.

"Of course, a bit of a shock is all." After a moment, he continued. "It seems I've run into some odd coincidences here and there." The warlock grinned cheekily.

"You're telling me!" Their conversation quickly returned, with help from Merlin, to more mundane topics rather than dwelling on the sorcerers of the past.

Desserts appeared then disappeared and as the last of the students finished the sweet custard that had been presented, Ryall stood again.

"Now that we're properly full," she began, "I have a few announcements to make. Please remember the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to all students and no one below third year is permitted to Hogsmeade.

"It is also my duty to inform you that there will be no Quidditch tournament this year." Muttering rose from the hall at this statement and Merlin raised an eyebrow at Corvus.

"Wizarding sport played on broomsticks." As he turned back to Ryall, Merlin wondered if he'd been more removed from the magical community than he cared to admit.

"There will be another event, beginning in October, which is sure to take up the time of many of your teachers. I am sure you will find it intriguing as well. This year, Hogwarts will host the first-ever Triwizard Tournament. The wizarding schools of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be invited to join us this year as each school competes to win the Triwizard Cup. These schools will arrive in October with their contenders and each school's champion will be selected at the end of the month. Everyone, above third year, is welcome to compete and there is an age-enchantment so please don't waste your time trying to get around it.

"We will be hosting our friends from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons for the majority of the coming year, and I expect each of you to be good hosts to the students coming. And now, off to bed with all of you! Goodnight!" The headmistress smiled again and the hall erupted into conversation.

As the first years were led to their respective dorms by the house prefects, Merlin couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't come sooner. He was sure he could build friendships with Eva, Corvus, and Rocelin. Even the year ahead seemed it would be full of excitement, and before falling asleep that evening, he couldn't help but wonder at the stories he could tell Arthur when the king woke.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to the betas MonJoh and ArthursSconeAngel

-The time period for this story is c. 1294

-According to this website (Lost Kingdom), only about 5% of the population of Europe received any sort of education around the time period of this story. Therefore, class sizes are small (but still have a teacher for each of the subjects because wizards are advanced) :).

-I'm currently writing a third chapter, so this looks like it will be more than a two-shot. Oops.


	3. Chapter 3

Standard disclaimer

* * *

When Merlin woke, his eyes found the dark green canopy above his head, and he forgot where he was. Sitting up abruptly at this thought, he pushed green curtains open at the side of his bed and stumbled onto the cold stone floor of the room. The room was large and held three canopied beds with green draping. A trunk sat at the end of each, and the entire chamber was illuminated by the huge windows on the side of the wall opposite the beds. These windows let substantial amounts of watery blue light into the room. A green banner hung near the door, bearing a giant serpent. But Merlin paid little mind to these things. He had to get to Arthur. The warlock sped towards the door only to stop as he passed one of the windows. Something outside caught his eye, and he altered his path to further investigate the movement…

…And stopped dead in his tracks. He was underwater. How was that possible? A hand on his shoulder made him jump and spin to face whoever had touched him, magic rising to defend him if necessary. He _had_ to get to Arthur and this person would _not_ stand-

Corvus stepped back, seeming surprised at Merlin's sudden turn, and Merlin's mind jumped forward through Camlann and the centuries he'd spent alone to Hogwarts. His throat constricted at the sudden onrush of memories, and tears welled in his eyes. Corvus noticed the change in demeanor and moved forward again as Merlin struggled to pull his emotions into check.

"Are you all right?"

Merlin nodded, not trusting his voice, and stared at his bare feet. Corvus looked at him a second more, unconvinced. He turned away from the warlock and back to his own bed and opened the trunk at the end. He pulled the black school robes out and set them on the trunk. Merlin had not moved.

"Are you sure?"

Merlin raised his eyes to the young Black and nodded sharply. He then proceeded to mimic Corvus's actions with his own trunk.

The two boys got dressed in a silence that was broken almost as soon as Rocelin opened his eyes. "We have classes today!" the boy half shrieked as he rolled out of bed, taking most of the blankets with him in a cascade of green and blond. Merlin smiled and managed to push the old memories into the back of his mind once again.

At breakfast, each student was handed a small piece of parchment dictating their schedules for the rest of the year. Upon seeing the schedule, Corvus groaned loudly and smacked his head against the table, shaking the platters.

"What is it?" Rocelin asked from across the table. Merlin leaned over to look at the Black's timetable, wondering if it was different from his own.

"We have classes with the Gryffindors," Corvus muttered.

"What's wrong with them?" Merlin asked.

"According to Scorpius and Orion, they're all stuck-up immature meatheads." He glared across the Great Hall where Professor Morecott was handing out timetables to the farthest table. "Far more brawn than brains."

"They don't look so bad to me," Rocelin said, following Corvus's gaze.

"Just wait. We have Charms with them right after breakfast." As Corvus's dark mood pervaded the air, two girls sat next to Rocelin.

"Hello. I'm Grace and this is Maria," the brunette said, gesturing to her friend. Maria smiled at the three Slytherin boys. Before they could respond, the rustling of wings sounded from overhead, and owls streamed into the Great Hall. The five first years looked up and watched the owls in awe as they circled the room, looking for their owners. A long-eared owl swooped towards the first years and landed in front of Corvus, a package tied to its leg. Merlin looked down the Slytherin table and noticed both Orion and Scorpius received similar packages, albeit smaller. Corvus detached the package from his owl and gave it a bit of the meat on his plate. The owl took to its wings again and left the hall.

A squabbling sound caught Merlin's attention, and he looked up to see Rocelin struggling with a russet owl as he tried to untie the package on its leg. The owl was having none of that as it scampered out of the way each time Rocelin grabbed for it. However, the package did not make the owl any nimbler, and it tumbled in all directions, even falling, at one point, into one of breakfast bowls. Merlin stood and grabbed it, quickly undoing the package around its leg. Finally freed, the owl jumped into the air, nipped Rocelin's ear, and made its exit from the hall. Rocelin groaned, grabbing the green cravat around his neck and pretending to choke himself with it.

"He _hates_ me," the blond grumbled to Corvus and Merlin, the former of whom was doing a terrible job of disguising his laughter. "I told mum _not_ to send him if she was going to send anything."

Snickering, Corvus turned his attention back to the package in front of him and opened it. There were two smaller parcels inside.

"Mother packed this for you," Corvus said, handing Merlin a package with his name on it. "It's most likely full of sweets."

"That's very kind of her." A warm feeling spread through the warlock's chest.

"If you don't like anything in there," Rocelin said, bouncing back from his frustration over the owl, "I'll eat it."

The crowd of owls began to thin as children received letters and packages from their parents. An abrupt weight on his left shoulder made Merlin look up at the ural owl that had landed there. "Hello, Archimedes," Merlin said, stroking the owl with his free hand. The owl nipped at his fingers playfully, then held out his right foot which was wrapped around some pine nettles. Merlin had asked the owl to watch Avalon in his absence and report in to him every so often, and Archimedes took the job seriously. Pine needles, in this case, were a sign that all was well. "Thank you." Merlin took the needles from the owl and gave him some of meat. Seeing his work was done, Archimedes nuzzled his master's head and took to the air again, leaving the Great Hall.

Merlin put the nettles into the pocket of his robes and looked back at his friends. Rocelin gave him a questioning look.

"Why'd he give you some pine tree?"

Merlin shrugged at the first-year across from him. "He's looking after a friend of mine."

"Can't your friend just write a letter?" Corvus had joined in on the questioning, his mouth full of the sweets his mother had sent him.

"Didn't you just eat breakfast?" Merlin said, hoping to change the topic lest he reveal too much.

Corvus grinned sheepishly, "Yes."

"But that's beside the point," Rocelin pressed.

Merlin huffed, trying to think of something vague that would satisfy Rocelin's question for now. "Well, erm… he's…rather…indisposed at the moment."

"Ah." The two Slytherin first years seemed satisfied at the answer and the three finished their breakfast while the girls next to Rocelin struck up conversation.

"Good morning, first years!" Professor Lyfeld greeted the Charms class. The division between houses was clear, Gryffindors on the right and Slytherins on the left. Lyfeld seemed to notice this as he studied the students, deep brown eyes piercing. The first years stared back, unsure whether they should respond. "Why don't we try this again; when I say 'good morning,' I would appreciate some sort of recognition of my existence." He paused. "Good morning, class."

A chorus of mumbled "hellos" and "good mornings" filled the air and Lyfeld sighed, almost defeatedly.

"I am Professor Lyfeld. Please take out your wands, we will begin with a bit of discussion before turning to the more practical side of things." The rustling of fabric filled the classroom as students took out their wands. Merlin set his wand in the center of the table in front of him and looked back to Lyfeld.

"Now," began the professor, "can anyone tell me why we use wands?" A Gryffindor boy raised his hand, and the professor pointed at him. "Yes? And give me your name, please."

"Adwin, sir. To direct magic?" the boy responded.

"Yes Adwin, that is correct, but I'm looking for something slightly more specific. Anyone else?" A girl sitting next to Adwin tentatively raised her hand, her platinum blonde hair in stark contrast to the messy black of the boy at her side. Professor Lyfeld nodded in her direction.

"Sarah, sir. Is it because it helps amplify our magic?"

"Yes. That's more along the lines of what I was looking for. Five points to Gryffindor." Lyfeld turned to the front of the classroom and Merlin noticed a yellow feather floating there, its quill covered in a golden liquid. "Please write this down." There was more shuffling as students pulled parchment and quills out of their bags. "Wands are used for three main purposes: to direct, channel, and focus magic." As he spoke, the words "direct," "channel," and "focus" were written in shimmering golden letters in the air. Merlin copied these words quickly.

Did this mean not all wizards were able to use their magic well without their wands? That thought was almost amusing to him, but, as he realized its implications, he became warier. If wands were used to amplify power, then he would have to be careful: his magic was already extremely powerful without the use of any instrument. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Merlin?" Lyfeld asked. Merlin became aware of those sitting on the Gryffindor side of the room as they shot him glances ranging from curious to outright suspicious. He looked back at Lyfeld.

"Why don't we practice wandless magic?" If normal wizards had trouble with casting magic, why didn't they just work to improve it and control it? He couldn't remember the druids ever needing to use objects to channel their magic.

Professor Lyfeld smiled at the boy. "Even your namesake used a staff to direct his power." Merlin was confused for a moment before he remembered his namesake was himself. Now there was an odd thought. Lyfeld continued, "Wandless magic is extremely difficult. It requires incredible amounts of focus and far more study than many are willing to dedicate to it." So, perhaps magic itself was different. Did these wizards follow the ways of the Old Religion? At that moment, in the middle of the classroom surrounded by people centuries younger than him, Merlin felt utterly alone. Maybe even more so than when he realized he would have to wait by himself until Arthur's return. At least then he'd known that the druids were there. And would be there for a while. He was unique in his birth, but he wasn't the only creature born of and into the earth's magic. And if what these people were saying was true, if they only held a whisper of the power he was created from…

He was startled from his thoughts with a nudge from Rocelin.

"Are you all right, Merlin?" the younger boy asked. Merlin looked around the room and noticed each student had picked up their wand as Lyfeld walked around the classroom handing out feathers. Merlin quickly picked up his own wand and looked at Rocelin, only then noticing the concern on his face.

Merlin gave a sheepish grin. "I may not have been paying attention."

Rocelin rolled his eyes as Professor Lyfeld approached them with feathers in hand.

"Merlin," the professor said. The old warlock looked up at him. "I would like to see you after class." Merlin swallowed a bit too hard. Lyfeld turned back to the class. "Now the spell we are going to practice is a simple levitating spell." He walked back to the center of the room. " _Wingardium leviosa_!" he said pointing his own wand at a feather he'd left on his desk. Slowly, the feather rose into the air before landing again on the table. "Please put down your wands and repeat after me: _Wingardium leviosa_." The students did as they were told. "The pronunciation is especially important when casting a spell. Without it, your magic is unlikely to work or you could end up casting the wrong spell, hurting someone you mean to be helping or vice versa." He looked at the class, a small smile dancing on his lips. "Now once more, _Wingardium leviosa_." The students repeated the spell. "Good. Pick up your wands and move the feather. Make a swish and flick motion with your wands as you say the spell."

" _Wingardium leviosa_!" Rocelin half-shouted at his feather. The feather shot across the desk and into Corvus's lap. Corvus snorted and Rocelin shot him a glare. Merlin grinned at his antics and turned to his own feather. He would have to be careful with this. It would be just like using the sidhe's staff, hopefully. But he hadn't ever used that for small spells. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. It would be fine.

" _Wingardium leviosa_ ," he said, trying to limit the amount of power leaving him.

Unfortunately, the wand was a better amplifier than the staff had been.

The feather blasted off the table with a loud _BANG!,_ shooting towards the ceiling so fast the feather's barbs were stripped from the shaft. Merlin cut off his magic abruptly, causing the remaining parts of the feather to fall back onto the table. He looked up from these small pieces to see most of the class looking at him in varying degrees of surprise. The silence the stares caused was broken by sudden laughter to his left. He turned to look at Rocelin who appeared just as surprised as the rest of the class. The black-haired boy sitting next to Rocelin had his head close to the desk and was laughing uproariously. Rocelin turned away from Merlin and looked at Corvus, a smile slowly stretching across the blond's face. Merlin groaned as Rocelin's laugh joined Corvus's.

The warlock's eyes met those of the professor, and he was startled by the almost knowing gaze stretched across Lyfeld's face. The look vanished quickly, but Merlin knew he hadn't mistaken it and wondered at its meaning for the rest of the class period.

As the first years were dismissed, Merlin made his way to the front of the room and stood there silently as Professor Lyfeld wrote something on a small piece of parchment. When he finished, he tapped the paper with the end of his wand. The paper folded itself into a paper crane and flew off from the desk towards the door where his classmates had exited.

"Hello, Merlin," the professor said. Merlin gave a small smile. "What do you think of Hogwarts?" That was an odd question. Was it the only reason Lyfeld had asked Merlin to see him?

"I like it, sir," the warlock responded, unsure as to the reason behind the line of questioning. "I never thought there would be anything like it, and it is a pleasure to be here."

"Do you think you'd want to compete in the Triwizard Tournament later this year?"

"I'm sorry, sir, what?"

"The tournament being held later this year; do you expect to try to enter?"

"I-I'm a first year, sir. The headmistress said anyone under third year was not allowed to compete."

"Of course." There was a long pause. "Are you Myrddin?"

"Who?" The warlock feigned ignorance.

"You are, aren't you? Emrys, Myrddin, Merlin, King Arthur's advisor." The professor was not asking anymore. He was sure.

"No," Merlin replied, mind struggling to come up with some plausible excuse for whatever the man's next question could be. Was he really this bad at hiding?

"You are." Lyfeld said it with such conviction, Merlin knew there was nothing he could say to convince the man otherwise.

"How did you know?" Because Merlin was trying to pass unnoticed, and, if one person could figure it out, he was sure others would follow.

"It's nothing you did wrong," the professor consoled. "Well, minus the feather." He smiled. "You know, I have seen students shoot their feathers across the tables, explode them, cut them into bits, yet I have never seen anything along the lines of what you just did. Usual first-year magic is far too weak to actually _frighten_ the feather into the air." He laughed softly. "Your aura is just…different. And I put wards around my room to tell me when someone entered with their true selves cloaked."

"Has every professor done that?" If that was the case, Merlin might as well just leave now. He didn't want his identity to become common knowledge. And he was sure he didn't want the professors to talk about it or treat him differently than the other students.

"No, I'm just paranoid." At that, Merlin smiled. "But I would like to help you with your wand work. Find a way for you to conduct less magic through it."

"That would be appreciated."

"Come by this Thursday after classes."

"Thank you, sir," Merlin said, turning to leave.

"Merlin," the professor called. Merlin looked back. "You asked about it and a wondered if…can you do wandless magic?" The professor now looked slightly sheepish.

"Would you like to see?"

"Yes."

Merlin moved back towards the professor and looked around the room. He shut his eyes and sighed deeply before calling all the feathers lying of the tables to him. The feather he had stripped repaired itself and all the feathers landed, neatly piled, on Lyfeld's desk. Merlin's eyes were gold.

* * *

A/N: Heyo! This chapter was not beta -ed so I hope it was still okay. Anyway, the next chapter should be up in a week. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Standard disclaimer

* * *

The Great Hall was always filled with noise when food was served. That Thursday, the sound acted as a perfect cover for an argument two Slytherin first years had at breakfast. From what Merlin could gather, it had to do with Corvus's statements the first day concerning the temperament of the students in Gryffindor. Rocelin argued on the side of the Gryffindors, stating that they couldn't all be meatheaded imbeciles, while Corvus held true to what his brothers had told him about the house. Merlin didn't much care either way, after all, what did it matter if Gryffindor house held people of little tact or not. Arthur had often switched between intelligence and utter stupidity, and he most certainly would have been in that house.

"Also, their common room isn't in the dungeons," Rocelin rebuked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Corvus asked.

"Well, they must have some intelligence so as not to pick one of the absolute worst places in the castle as their living space."

"It wasn't even the Gryffindor house. That was Godric, their founder, who chose not to have a common room in the dungeon."

"Then Salazar must have been the most idiotic of all. Who puts a common room in the dungeon?"

"We do have a neat view of the lake. That does make up for the dungeons, at least a little." At Merlin's input, Rocelin looked at him in mock outrage.

"Merlin! You're supposed to be on my side!" he grumbled.

"I'm just saying that it's neat."

"Can I also add that the Gryffindor house, at one point in time, added a large tree branch to the top of their tower to make it the tallest on the castle." Corvus grinned smugly.

"That doesn't prove that the whole house is full of idiots," Rocelin protested.

"Perhaps not, but it does prove that they are full of themselves."

"What do we have today?" Merlin asked, rather tired of their conflict and hoping to redirect the topic of conversation. Rocelin looked at the old warlock and resigned from the argument he'd been having, choosing to pull out his timetable.

"History of Magic is first-" Rocelin started.

"So that we can get some much-needed rest before classes actually start," Corvus quipped.

Rocelin glared at him and continued, "Potions, Flying, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What'd your brothers tell you about those?" Merlin asked the dark-haired boy sitting next to him.

"History of Magic is fine; the teacher is really enthusiastic but the subject is boring. Potions is alright. Orion really liked it. Flying got great reviews from both Scorpius and Orion, which surprised me 'cause Scorpius is normally an ass about every class. DADA is alright too. The head of house for Slytherin is the professor, and we learn some interesting stuff. She's a good teacher, so I've heard."

"An exciting day, then?" Rocelin asked, grinning ear to ear.

"Hopefully," said Corvus, "But we have half our classes with the Gryffindors."

As he and Rocelin began to bicker again, Merlin turned his attention to the head table where Professor Lyfeld was sitting. The two made eye contact and the professor gave a conspiratorial wink. Merlin gave a small grin and refocused on his two friends.

They were still arguing.

Merlin sighed and once again tried to redirect the conversation. "What do you know about Professor Lyfeld?"

The two once again ceased their argument to answer Merlin's question.

Corvus glanced toward the staff table. "Not much. Scorpius doesn't like him, but he doesn't like anyone really. Apparently, Lyfeld's relatively new. This will be his third year teaching here." The Black shrugged.

"I don't much like him," Rocelin commented. "He's too…" The blond waved his hand in the air as if to suggest a completion of the sentence.

"That's very specific of you, Rocelin," Corvus teased. "I'm glad you're so eloquent. Maybe you should join Gryffindor, I'm sure they'd find your speech both meaningful and poignant."

And the argument began once again.

History of Magic was taught by a young, red-headed man named Cuthbert Binns. He had recently graduated Hogwarts and appeared to be very excited as he began the course that morning.

"History of Magic allows us a glimpse into the past. We better understand those who walked the path before us, what they believed and how it shaped what we believe today. And, in all, how magic has grown and spread." Professor Binns smiled at the class. "Today, we will begin study on the origins of magic, what was once called the Old Religion and what led to its eradication." As Merlin became more attentive upon hearing this information, he noticed Corvus's head was lying on the desk, and his breathing had become slower. Merlin rolled his eyes and listened to the professor.

The stories he told were interesting. Professor Binns wove together the folklore and factual history as he lectured; however, it was clear to Merlin that there was not much information covering those early years. In fact, he didn't learn anything he hadn't learned from Gaius about the ways of the Old Religion.

"And then around the late fifth and early sixth century, a powerful new sorcerer stepped into the light." About half the class had fallen asleep while the other half stared enraptured at Binns's tale. Rocelin scribbled something on the piece of parchment he was taking notes on and glanced over at Merlin. The latter grinned and motioned to Corvus with his head. The young Black had started to drool in his sleep. Rocelin smiled widely. "The great and powerful Merlin." Merlin felt the professor's eyes on him as he looked at the parchment in front of him, pretending to take notes. "He was a powerful prophet, rumored to be the son of a princess and an incubus. He was a great friend to Uther Pendragon, even assisting in the conception of the king's son, Arthur."

Merlin started at the professor's words. What was this? It was inaccurate and, in all, rather odd. Did Geoffrey of Monmouth record this? For the rest of the class period, Merlin drifted out of focus and puzzled over the meaning behind the story Binns told.

He certainly didn't teach Arthur anything, as the professor implied, and he was a couple years younger than the prince anyway. If Geoffrey hadn't died some years ago, Merlin was sure he would have left the school and confronted the man after hearing such a tale. He had gifted Arthur Excalibur and many of the names of knights and nobles were the same, but the history Binns spoke of did not follow what Merlin remembered.

"And a powerful sorceress trapped the great sorcerer in what could be a tower or a rock or a tree. Whichever entombment Merlin experienced, it is unknown today whether he lives." Binns paused and surveyed the class, overlooking those who were sleeping. "That is all for today. If you have any questions, please ask me as you leave." He sat down at his desk and students began to file out.

Rocelin nudged Corvus who jumped upon waking. "Imnosleepin what?" he said wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

"Of course you aren't, Corvus, but surely you heard that class was over." Rocelin gave a teasing grin.

"Yeah. I knew," Corvus said, standing. As he did so, he stepped on the hem of his robe and went tumbling down. Rocelin laughed. "Merlin's beard, Rocelin. There's no need to be so rude," Corvus huffed.

"If you were listening in class, you'd have learned that Merlin didn't have a beard," Merlin chastised.

"What?!"

"Only kidding." Merlin grinned.

"You two are horrible," Corvus groaned as he stood.

The Slytherin first years started to leave the room, and, as they passed Professor Binns, Merlin considered asking him why the tales about himself were so convoluted. But then he recalled Lyfeld's discovery of his identity and decided against it. There was no way he would reveal more than he had to. Perhaps he'd do some study on the topic outside of class.

"Off to Potions!" Rocelin declared, and proceeded down the hallway, black robes billowing behind him. Corvus looked at Merlin and the two set off behind their blond friend.

Potions went by slowly as the three boys anticipated the flying lessons to occur later in the day. Corvus and Rocelin worked together at a cauldron while Merlin paired with Eva, as Slytherin and Hufflepuff had Potions together. Merlin noticed Rocelin become so distracted that, at one point, he knocked multiple sprigs of wolfsbane into the pot, causing a puff of yellowish smoke which forced Professor Parkinson to empty the cauldron with a wave of her wand. Merlin was reminded throughout the class of the time he spent with Gauis working in the physician's quarters to create remedies and cures for the castle. With Eva helping him, the two successfully brewed a cure for boils by the end of the period. However, Merlin grew more excited at the prospect of the flying lessons after lunch.

By the time the class ended, Rocelin was positively glowing with anticipation. As they walked toward the Great Hall, Corvus nudged the blond.

"Why are you so excited?" he asked. "Haven't you ever flown before?"

Rocelin shook his head. "Mother doesn't like having a broomstick in the house. She's worried one of the kids will take it and either reveal themselves to the muggles or crash. I'm not sure which she's more afraid of."

"What about you, Merlin?" Corvus turned to the warlock. "Have you ever flown?"

"Not on a broomstick," came the reply. Both boys seemed to become more interested in the prospect of having flown without a broomstick, and Merlin mentally slapped himself. How was he going to keep his secret if he didn't watch his tongue?

"On what, then?" Rocelin asked.

"My father-" He was interrupted from his half-baked reply by Professor Lyfeld.

"Hello, boys," the professor greeted. The three Slytherins nodded their greetings, Merlin perhaps too enthusiastically. The professor surveyed them for a moment then looked at Merlin. "I look forward to seeing you this evening," he said then turned away from him and entered the Great Hall.

"What was that about?" Corvus asked. The boys' previous query forgotten.

"Nothing exciting." Merlin shrugged. "I'm supposed to see him tonight to work on my magic." It still felt odd to talk about that in public. Here he was, centuries in the future, still wary of Camelot's anti-magic laws.

"So that you don't explode anything in his next class?" Rocelin teased.

"The feather did not explode," Merlin huffed in mock annoyance.

"No but it just about took my eye out," the blond countered.

"Too bad it didn't take your tongue out and we wouldn't have to listen to your rabble." Merlin smirked at the boy who gave the old warlock an outraged expression.

"Your beard, Merlin!" Corvus was laughing.

"My what?"

"You know, because you're Merlin but there's also _Merlin_ Merlin." Rocelin smiled, forgetting his previous indignation. Merlin rolled his eyes: of course this would be the kind of humor he was forced to endure.

The two eleven-year-olds made no further comment as they entered the Great Hall, apparently too overcome by their own incredible wit.

After lunch, the boys stood with the rest of the first years on the Quidditch pitch outside the school. Merlin stared at the goalposts on either end of the field wondering what caused someone to come up with such an odd game. Two of the Gryffindors had walked over to the goals nearest them and attempted to throw small rocks and pebbles through the hoops. Upon seeing them, Corvus smirked and nudged Rocelin.

"What are they trying to do?" the Black questioned.

"Perhaps they're working on their throwing accuracy," the blond responded.

"They look like idiots."

"Maybe-"

"Not this again," Merlin interrupted Rocelin's retort. "Argue about their stupidity somewhere where I'm not standing nearby." Corvus nodded in agreement as the instructor walked onto the pitch.

"Maybe they think you look stupid staring at them," Rocelin whispered to Corvus. Merlin shot him a glare to which the boy grinned and separated himself from Corvus by standing on the other side of Merlin.

The professor blew his whistle shrilly and the group of children surrounded him. "Good afternoon, first years. I am Mister Gwenson." He grinned at the students. "Today we will be learning to fly. I know some of you may have learned at home; however, it would be in your interest to listen and follow along as I may teach you something you have not yet learned. Everyone please take a broom." He motioned to a pile of broomsticks he'd laid in the grass by the edge of the pitch. There was a massive surge as the first years moved to get a broomstick. Once everyone had one, Mister Gwenson separated the students into two parallel lines. "Now put your broomsticks on the ground. Hold your hand over them and say 'up.'" The students did as they were told and shortly after a chorus of "up"s filled the air.

"Up!" said Merlin. Immediately, the broom sprang into his hand. He looked around and noticed only a few of the other students had succeeded on their first try: among them was the Gryffindor, Adwin.

"Up!" Corvus growled from beside him. The boy's broom shifted slightly along the ground. Merlin changed his attention to Rocelin.

"Up!" the blond said. The broom leaped into his hand and pulled him a few inches off the ground. He looked at Merlin and gave a shrug. By this time, around half of the class had managed to get their brooms off the ground. Some of the students shouted advice to others struggling with their brooms and after a few more minutes the whole class had their brooms in hand.

"Now," said Gwenson, grinning, "mount your brooms." The students did so. "Kick off a bit from the ground, we're going to go up and then come back down." Merlin kicked off and felt the broom rise ever so steadily into the air. His heart began to beat faster. "And come back down." Merlin shifted and the broom descended. He planted both feet on the ground again. As the rest of the class landed, Gwenson gave a relieved sigh, clearly thrilled no one had managed to hurt themselves as of yet. "Good. Now up again a couple more times, and then I'll give you free range." The class ascended and descended as a unit twice more. "Alright, then. Ladies and gentlemen, feel free to fly around the pitch for the rest of the period. Do not leave the pitch; there are wards placed at the top so you will not be able to fly out." Several students whooped and kicked their brooms into the air. Merlin followed the rest of the first years off the ground.

Roughly ten minutes later, Merlin found himself next to Rocelin and Corvus, doing loop de loops on the broomstick. He loved flying. When he'd ridden Kilgharrah, he hadn't been able to conduct and was subject to the dragon's whims as the two flew. But now that he had control, he couldn't help but wonder why he'd never tried this before. Surely it didn't take advanced magic to enchant a broom. The wind pulled at his school robes and rustled his coal-colored hair as he flew around the Quidditch pitch. He could imagine what the thrill of the game must be like for those playing and wondered if they ever wanted to come down. He grinned in spite of himself, the smile stretching across his face one of the first truly happy smiles he'd given since everything came crashing down those centuries ago.

At dinner that evening, the first years could not stop talking about their flying lesson. All three Slytherin boys participated in active conversation, grinning from ear to ear and regaling the others with the flying practice they'd had, embellishing as much detail as possible.

It had been a good day, Merlin thought as he walked towards Lyfeld's office later that evening. He'd left Corvus and Rocelin in the Slytherin common room to do their homework as he went to meet the professor. Well, more accurately, he'd left Rocelin to do his work in the common room. Corvus seemed to find sitting still and focusing rather difficult. When he'd walked out, Corvus had been flicking his wand at papers Rocelin was trying to write on, levitating them with a whispered _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm. Rocelin, on the other hand, had looked positively murderous. Merlin was glad to have had the opportunity to leave.

When Merlin pulled himself from his thoughts to look where he was going, he found himself staring at the oak door which marked the entry to Lyfeld's office. He raised his hand to knock, but the door, seemingly of its own accord, swung open to grant him entrance. Lyfeld was sitting behind a solid wooden desk in the center of the room, his boot-clad feet perched atop its smooth surface. His deep red robes seemed to amplify the warmness of the candlelit room as he looked up from the book he was reading.

"Hello, Merlin." The professor smiled, the light from the candles sharply defining the contours of his face.

"Good evening, professor," Merlin greeted, stepping further into the room as the door closed behind him at the flick of Lyfeld's wand.

"Please, have a seat," Lyfeld said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. Merlin did as he was told. The professor studied him for a long moment before asking, "You're really Merlin?" Merlin nodded. The professor shook his head in disbelief, his smile replaced by curious awe. "King Arthur's Merlin?" Merlin nodded again, his mood slightly darkening at the mention of the friend he'd failed to save. "What was he like?"

"Arthur?" Lyfeld nodded. Merlin thought for a moment. "He was a dollophead." Lyfeld's head jerked back in surprise at Merlin's bluntness. The warlock grinned at the professor's reaction, even as he sank into memory. "But he was a good man, one of the best I've known. He cared a great deal for Camelot and his people." And so, Merlin regaled the professor with stories of adventure and excitement that took the two men late into the evening.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Chapter 5 may take a while to come up. :(

All Merlin history facts come from the website Timeless Myths.


	5. Chapter 5

Standard disclaimer

* * *

September slowly bled into October, and Merlin found his heart growing lighter with each passing day. Classes all went as well as they could and it was good to spend time with Corvus and Rocelin, but Merlin found himself most excited to see Lyfeld. Sharing the true story of his past, something he hadn't done with anyone ever, allowed him to become more comfortable with it, to see the highlights of what had truly been the greatest time of his life. And Lyfeld was a good listener. He laughed at the right places, his eyes glittering with amusement at some of Merlin's misadventures, and grew solemn at others when Merlin had trouble finding the right words to express the difficulty of a situation. Even after Lyfeld had helped him find a way to control his magic, he still found himself going to the man Thursday evenings, just to talk and be heard.

And it wasn't all about Merlin. Oh no. Lyfeld had led quite an eventful life up until he became the Charms professor at Hogwarts. In fact, Headmistress Ryall had even asked him to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which he had turned down because of his love for charms. A good many of them, he claimed, had saved his life on multiple occasions.

This Thursday was no different, but Lyfeld reintroduced a question.

"Are you going to participate in the Triwizard tournament?" the man asked.

"I think that defeats the purpose of pretending to be a first year," the old warlock replied.

"Nonsense."

"It does, though. I probably wouldn't need a wand to pass most of the obstacles, and it would be unfair to the competitors. I have centuries more practice with my magic than they have."

"But think of it this way: you've never used a wand before. They have the edge there."

"What makes you think I'd use a wand?"

"Oh, so we're revealing your identity to everyone now?"

Merlin rolled his eyes at the professor. "Of course not."

"Then why are you so hesitant?"

"Everyone else deserves a chance to participate."

"And you don't?"

Merlin shrugged. "I know that I'll have infinitely more opportunities than they ever will."

"What makes you say that?"

"If the tournament goes well this year, I'm sure Headmistress Ryall and the other headmasters will be happy to hold other tournaments in the future."

"But you may not be here then. If you're so worried about the other competitors, think of this, if you were a wizard, even if you lost in this tournament, wouldn't you be comfortable knowing you lost to the great Merlin?"

"I thought I said we weren't revealing my secret."

"When it all comes out after your years at Hogwarts."

"I don't know." And that was the truth. Merlin stared at the professor, his sky-colored eyes brimming with uncertainty.

"Just think on it," Lyfeld urged.

"I will." And then the conversation turned away from the Triwizard Tournament as Lyfeld asked a question about Gwaine and the adventures the knight and Merlin shared.

The last week of October arrived quickly, and with it came an excited buzz throughout the school. In the corridors, there where whispers of the wizarding schools coming to visit, what their students would be like and how they would integrate into the daily lives of the students at Hogwarts. There was also a great deal of murmuring about the Triwizard Tournament itself. Every competitive soul in Hogwarts, it seemed, wanted to participate. After Charms one day, Merlin even overheard the first-year Adwin talking about entering, despite his limited skill.

"You can't. You're a first year." It seemed Corvus had overheard as well.

"Yeah?" said Adwin, turning from the group of Gryffindors he'd been speaking to, a smirk on his lips. "Says who?"

"The Headmistress? Either way, they'll recognize that you're too young to enter when you tell them you want to participate."

"The professors aren't the ones taking names," Adwin stated.

"Then I'm sure whatever it is that does will have some sort of age ward around it."

"And you think so lowly of me that you don't believe I can get around an age ward?"

"You're a first year," Corvus re-stated.

"Then just wait a bit. You'll be surprised." With those words, Adwin turned and walked to his next class.

"What a…self-absorbed…little…" Corvus stammered as the Gryffindor boy left.

"Clotpole?" Merlin suggested.

"Yes! A self-absorbed clotpole!" Corvus looked at Merlin, a fierce expression on his face.

Rocelin chose to interrupt then, "I wonder what he's going to do to get around the ward." The three Slytherins began to make their way to their next class.

"You think he'll actually get by it?" Corvus asked, giving his blond friend a sidelong glance.

"No. But I bet he'll try something like an aging spell. I'd like to be around to see it."

"That would be interesting," Merlin commented.

"Maybe his spell will backfire. Then he'll realize he's an idiot," Corvus muttered.

Rocelin looked at Merlin and rolled his eyes. Merlin smiled.

The boys walked in silence for a bit until Grace and Maria joined their group. The Slytherin girls began to speak with them.

"Are you excited for the welcoming feast?" Grace asked.

Corvus shrugged, "I am. But I don't see why everyone's so excited to have the Tournament."

"It'll be fun to watch," Maria said.

"I suppose," was Corvus's dejected reply.

"Come on, Corvus, aren't you the least bit competitive?" Rocelin teased.

"No."

"Sorry, girls," Rocelin said, "He's upset that Adwin's gonna enter to participate in the Tournament, and he didn't think of it first."

"Why would I be jealous?" Corvus muttered. "I'm not looking to die for personal glory."

"I doubt the headmasters would hold the tournament if it was possible anyone would die," Maria said. Merlin furrowed his brows. The thought that the Tournament could be potentially life-threatening hadn't even crossed his mind. Of course, with Arthur, all tournaments and melees alike had always held the possibility of death, but he'd somehow assumed that, because the students at Hogwarts were younger than Arthur was when the warlock met him, they wouldn't have to face anything as arduous as the King had.

"Is there a track record of people dying in wizarding tournaments?" he asked, hoping the answer was no.

"Even in Quidditch people die or go missing for years on end," Corvus replied.

"But that hasn't happened at Hogwarts for a long time," Grace added.

"So, it _has_ happened before?" Merlin was liking the idea of the Triwizard Tournament less and less.

"Well, yes. But it's not like it's _dangerous_." Grace ran her fingers through her loose, black hair, parting it down the left side. Rocelin rolled his eyes.

"Of course its _dangerous_. That's what makes it fun!" The blond turned his attention back to the corridor they were walking down. "And if we don't hurry, we'll be late."

With that, the five students picked up their pace and headed towards the next class.

That evening found Merlin and his friends sitting in the Great Hall waiting anxiously for supper. Rumor had it that at some point that day, a great ship had risen out of Hogwarts's lake, and there was even a sighting of a flying carriage somewhere on the grounds. While Merlin was excited to discover more about the other wizarding schools, he wished it could have happened after he'd eaten. His stomach grumbled unhappily at the prospect of waiting. From across the table, Rocelin kicked Merlin's foot, drawing his attention away from his food-filled thoughts and toward his friend.

"There you are, Merlin. I'd thought you'd dozed off for a moment."

"No, just wishing they'd let us eat."

Rocelin nodded solemnly.

"Have you noticed the two new headmasters at the head table?" Corvus asked, "or have you been completely distracted by your stomach?" Merlin shot a sidelong glance at the Black sitting next to him.

"Of course I'd noticed. It'd be hard not to with all the whispering." Rocelin chuckled at Merlin's comment. And now that the warlock was paying more attention to the room, he found the small conversations surrounding him had grown in volume to the point where they were almost a cacophony of unintelligible sound. Corvus raised an eyebrow at him.

"So who do you think is who?" he asked.

"What are the school's names again?" Merlin queried, looking at the two headmasters seated, one on either side of Hogwarts's headmistress.

"Durmstrang and Beauxbaton," Rocelin supplied. He too turned his attention to the professors' table.

The man sitting to the headmistress's right was young-looking man with short dark hair and a light mustache and goatee. His dark red robes accentuating his features in the candlelight. On the left sat another man who looked slightly older than the first. He looked much scrawnier, though, and his dark hair appeared to be receding, leaving him with a rather large forehead. He looked kindly enough, Merlin supposed, and his pale blue robes did nothing to challenge this presumption.

"Blue is Beauxbaton," Merlin said.

"That's what Corvus said." Rocelin looked back at the two Slytherins across from him.

"And you think differently?"

"Well, I'd like to think that looks aren't everything and that the blue man runs a tight ship school at Durmstrang."

Just then, Headmistress Ryall stood from her seat at the center of the table of professors. A hush fell over the students in the Great Hall as they noticed her.

"Today, we are welcoming two of our fellow wizarding schools into our humble halls," she began in the silence. "Currently, the students of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang are being shown to their quarters in the castle. As we wait for them to arrive, I would like to introduce Headmaster Harfang Munter of Durmstrang and Headmaster Guiscard Bonhomme of Beauxbaton." As she spoke, the man in red robes stood followed soon after by the man in blue.

"Looks like you were wrong, Rocelin," Corvus whispered, a grin ghosting his features. "Apparently looks _are_ everything." From the pained whimper that escaped Corvus a second later, Merlin assumed Rocelin had very eloquently kicked him under the table.

The Hogwarts and Durmstrang headmasters sat.

"Students," began the Beauxbaton headmaster, "we are very glad to be joining you on this special day in the history of our three schools where we begin a tournament that is sure to last for the centuries to come!" He smiled at them before continuing, "Headmaster Munter and myself have brought with us a selection of students to participate with you in this competition, and we hope some of you are willing to put yourself up to the challenge as well. With that, I hope I've delayed long enough for your liking Headmistress." There was a small round of laughter at that statement as Headmistress Ryall stood again.

"Yes, thank you Monsieur Bonhomme." The man sat as Ryall turned her attention back to the hall at large. "Now, please welcome the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton as they join us for supper." Merlin noticed her give a somewhat pointed look at the Slytherin table as the Great Hall doors opened and students clothed in pale blue and dark red uniforms entered, matching, Merlin thought, quite nicely with the colors their respective headmasters wore. These new students found seats at the long tables which occupied the Great Hall, many sitting in clumps of their schoolmates. Merlin turned to Corvus.

"Why'd Ryall look at us like that?" the warlock asked.

"Probably because Slytherin house isn't really known for hospitality." Corvus shrugged. "She's probably worried we'll say something rude."

"Will we?"

"Maybe. Who knows?" Corvus looked down the table at Durmstrang students that had found a place there. "Probably not to the Durmstrang students. Their bloodlines are normally within reasonable acceptability."

"Does it always come back to bloodlines?" Merlin asked.

"With Slytherin, yes." Rocelin joined their conversation. "Which is-"

"If you say something stupid about Gryffindor I will hurt you," Corvus interjected.

Rocelin held his hands up in mock surrender. "I was only going to say its most likely because our founder was kind of a blood purist." He looked at Corvus. "But you seem to have Gryffindor on your mind, don't you?" The blond gave a mischievous grin which was immediately distorted as Corvus kicked him under the table.

"Thank you for joining us, students of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang. Now, let us eat," Ryall said once the students had settled.

Merlin was delighted to see the food finally appear on the table and began to help himself.

As the last of the desserts vanished, Ryall stood again. "Since we've all had our fill, I would like to make a few announcements pertaining to the Triwizard Tournament in which one student from each school will participate this coming year." Any conversations that had persisted into this part of Ryall's speech ceased as all the students waited to hear more about the Tournament. The headmistress reached forward and picked up a large goblet sitting in front of her. It appeared rather plain but seemed to have a faint greenish-blue glow or aura about it, and Merlin wondered how he'd missed its presence entirely. "This goblet has been enchanted to select three names, one from each school. The students whose names are chosen will be the champions for their school."

Excited murmuring filtered through the room, and Merlin could have sworn he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Adwin puff up and mouth something along the lines of "that will be me" to the Gryffindor sitting next to him. Ryall waited until the chatter within the hall died down to continue.

"This goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall. Be warned, however, that there will be charms placed around it to prevent our younger students from entering." Her eyes swept the hall, falling upon, Merlin thought, Adwin sitting at the Gryffindor table. "Thank you for your time, students." She smiled. "Now, off to bed! The goblet will be there in the morning should you so choose to put your name inside." Almost as one, the hall full of students rose and made their way through the doors of the Great Hall, the noise level once again rising.

Later that night, Merlin sat at the edge of his bed in his sleep clothes, watching Rocelin dig through Corvus's trunk for parchment. Corvus watched the blond as well, an unidentifiable look on his face. There was an odd sound, and Rocelin half jumped out of the trunk. Corvus fell back onto his bed with a wicked cackle, missing the daggers being shot at him in Rocelin's glare.

"What was that?" Merlin asked, trying to avoid laughing at the dark liquid coating Rocelin's face.

"A gobstone," Rocelin said, his gaze not leaving Corvus.

"Sorry," Corvus wheezed between fits of laughter, "I don't have any parchment in there." Rocelin dug a small stone out of Corvus's trunk and threw it at the Black whose laughter ceased as the stone hit his forehead. Merlin stifled a giggle at the dark-haired boy's horrified expression.

Rocelin seemed to find it funny too as his shoulders and visage relaxed. "You'll regret that," Rocelin mock- threatened. The stone spit liquid at Corvus's face. Corvus shrieked and tried to protect himself, but it was too late. He received a face full of the vile substance as well.

"I think I already do," he said, eyes meeting Merlin's who was trying to stifle his laughter lest the two boys turn on him next.

They, however, left to go wash their faces, and Merlin sat, staring off into nothing, unwilling to fall asleep. While the days had improved tremendously, he still couldn't seem to escape the nightmares of Camlann in his dreams. They appeared so real and so vivid that it took a long time to remember any of the good that happened during his time with Arthur after he'd woken. His thoughts drifted towards the Tournament, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he should take part in it. Would that make it easier for him to force his subconscious away from his loss? The old warlock's musings were interrupted as his roommates once again entered, chatting amiably.

"Merlin," Rocelin asked, "if you were old enough to compete in the Tournament, would you?"

"It's come back to this?" Merlin questioned.

"Yeah. Rocelin thinks, that with a few years, he could beat anyone who 'dared cross his path,'" Corvus said.

"I didn't say it like that." Rocelin frowned. "But Corvus thinks he's too weak to."

"I said 'with a little more learning, maybe.'" Now it was Corvus's turn to be annoyed.

"So, would you, do you think?" Rocelin asked, rephrasing his original question.

There was a long pause as Merlin contemplated that. Maybe he was right and he would be able to chase his dreams of Camlann away. Or not. Either way, it could be worth a try.

"I think so."

* * *

A/N: A big thank you so much to everyone who R&R'd! It's always nice to hear from you all.

I'm going to try and update at least monthly (hopefully). School is...well...school.


	6. Chapter 6

Standard disclaimer

* * *

In the following weeks, many a student was seen putting their name into the goblet, and all the school's gossip seemed to be focused on who would be chosen for the Tournament. Corvus even regaled them with a story of how Scorpius had put his name into the goblet with as much pomp and circumstance as the older Black could muster. Of course, Corvus could barely get through the part where Scorpius tripped on his robe as he walked back from the goblet and then scurried away as if to hide his clumsiness. By the time the youngest Black finished the tale, he was almost in tears, an enormous smile planted on his face.

At lunch the following Thursday, Maria regaled the trio with a new piece of gossip.

"I heard that Adwin is going to try to put his name in the goblet today after he finishes eating." Rocelin and Corvus, who were sitting with their backs turned to the Gryffindor table, simultaneously twisted in their seats to look over at the Gryffindor first year. "Don't look!" Maria hissed, but Adwin had already caught sight of the two Slytherins and raised an eyebrow at them. They quickly turned back to face their friends, embarrassed to be noticed staring.

"Really?" Merlin asked, taking the food off his fork. As he chewed, Grace nodded affirmingly.

"Has he found some way to get around the age limit?" Corvus asked.

Maria glanced around then spoke in a conspiratorial manner, "I heard that he had Professor Kainan brew him an aging potion to get past the charm."

"She would never agree to do that. He's not even good enough at potions for her to want to help," Rocelin argued. "If anyone would help him, I bet it would be Lyfeld."

"Perhaps he'll steal a broom, fly over the goblet and drop it in that way."

"Or he could just enchant the paper to fly itself in."

"Look, he's leaving." It was Grace's whisper that caused the group to look up at the Gryffindor table where a head of unkempt black hair was making its way towards the door. As the Slytherin first years rose to go watch, about a third of the hall did as well. Apparently, people were well-aware of Adwin's attempt and did not want to miss the boy, most likely, make a fool of himself.

Outside the Great Hall, a group of students had gathered. Merlin, Corvus, and Rocelin maneuvered their way around the taller students towards the front, where Adwin and another Gryffindor boy were standing. The boy muttered something to Adwin and stepped forward towards the barrier. Instead of passing through, it appeared as though he'd run into an invisible wall. Corvus, Merlin, and Rocelin became more careful making their way around the goblet to get a better view. A couple of snickers rose from the students crowded around as the boy brushed himself off and stepped back to Adwin's side. Adwin pulled a vial hidden in his robes and put it to his lips. After a quick gulp, he hid the potion once again and waited for a moment.

Suddenly, the boy's wild hair began to grow. It quickly fell past his shoulders and down his back. Upon reaching the back of his knees, the mane of hair stopped just as fast as it started. For a moment, the students gathered to watch were absolutely silent. Then, the Gryffindor who'd run into the wall previously began to snigger. And soon, all those watching were laughing openly, even Adwin himself shared in the mirth.

Seeing that the excitement was over and Adwin was unsuccessful in his attempt, students began to leave, going either back to lunch or their second half of classes. The three Slytherin boys, who'd watched the proceedings with joyful fascination, lingered, Rocelin still quietly chucking. Once a majority of the students had left, Adwin and his friend turned back to the goblet and noticed the three.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Adwin's friend asked, eyes questioning.

"You have Defense Against the Dark Arts with us next," Corvus said, glaring.

"Oh." The other boy turned back to Adwin who shrugged and pulled out his wand and a piece of parchment.

" _Wingardium leviosa!_ " he said, pointing the wand at the parchment and floating it over the barrier to the goblet. The parchment danced through the air, carried as if by some unseen wind, and landed in the goblet. The three Slytherins looked at Adwin, surprise written on their faces. "What?" said the recipient of their attention. "I told you I would." And with that, he walked away, his long hair flowing in the breeze generated by his movement.

Merlin, Corvus, and Rocelin watched as the Gryffindor boy left, then turned their attention back to the goblet.

"I refuse to believe it was that easy," Corvus complained, his brow furrowing.

"I thought the professors would have been more cautious. That _was_ a first-year spell he tried," Merlin commented.

"Do you think the potion was supposed to work, or that he just used it to drive people away?" Rocelin wondered.

"It makes sense," Corvus replied. "He wouldn't want to embarrass himself in front of the entire school if it didn't work."

"Better to intentionally give them something to laugh at, I suppose." Rocelin squinted his eyes. "Still, I'd've thought the goblet would be better protected, like you said, Mer-" The last syllable of Merlin's name died on Rocelin's lips as the goblet began to spark.

"Well, it looks as though something's gone wrong," Merlin said, a sarcastic look sliding onto his face. The goblet continued to sputter and a piece of parchment fluttered out. Merlin looked around, no students were in the hallway at the moment, likely meaning no one had seen Adwin's temporary success. He returned his gaze to the expelled piece of parchment and watched it land on the floor, folded in half.

"That's his, then?" Corvus questioned with a slow grin.

"Only one way to find out," Rocelin said, whipping out his own wand. " _Accio!_ " The parchment didn't budge.

"That did nothing," Corvus stated bluntly.

" _Thank_ you, Corvus. I hadn't realized that." Rocelin tried again. " _Accio_!" Again, the parchment stayed still.

"How'd you even learn that spell, anyway. I thought it was just for fourth years." Rocelin turned to Corvus, a frown on his face.

"Ave, my little sister, is very good at getting into anything you don't want her to. Mum taught me so I could keep after Ave for her." He pointed his wand again. "Which is why I don't understand why this isn't working. _Accio_ parchment!"

"Maybe the age barrier is preventing it?" Merlin suggested.

"Oh. Right." Rocelin gave Merlin a sheepish look. "That would probably affect it."

"Why don't you try it, Merlin?" Corvus asked.

"Why? If it's the barrier it won't do anything."

"Yes, but if you can't get it we can be sure it is the barrier and not Rocelin's lack of skill."

"Hey!" came the indignant retort.

"Why don't you try it?" Merlin asked.

"Merlin, we all know that you're the best at Charms. You're more likely to do it right than I am." Which was true. Merlin sighed. Hopefully, they would just think Rocelin had had an off day because Merlin would attempt it. He was curious to see whether the barrier would let him cross. And, as he raised his hand and dictated the spell, he felt his magic course effortlessly through the wand and pull the paper towards him. Absently, he noted that his control was getting better: the parchment flew in spurts of speed towards him as opposed to attempting to take out his eye with its pointed edge. In no time at all, there he stood with the half-folded scrap in his left hand.

"So, it _was_ your own fault," Corvus teased. Rocelin huffed in frustration.

"Maybe," the latter conceded.

"Is it Adwin's?" Corvus asked Merlin, turning his attention towards the piece of parchment. Merlin unfolded the paper. Across the center of it, in an untidy scrawl, was the name _Adwin Potter_. "Amazing," said Corvus, his eyes on the name as well, "there is a complete lack of legibility in his chicken scratch. Was he born in a hovel?" Merlin rolled his eyes and placed the name in his pocket. The trio stared at the goblet for a moment longer before Rocelin spoke up.

"You know," he said, turning away from the goblet and moving towards the nearest staircase, "we're late to class."

The next few seconds found the three Slytherins sprinting through the corridors towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

/

That evening, Merlin walked by the goblet on his way to meet with Professor Lyfeld. There weren't normally many students out at this time as most were either in the library or in their common rooms finishing homework or the like. So, he was a bit surprised to see a blond figure standing near the age barrier throwing paper and muttering to themselves. As he got nearer, he was even more surprised to see the student was a very familiar one.

"Rocelin?" Merlin asked, approaching with a very good idea of what was happening. The boy in question froze and stuck something in his back pocket. Merlin shot a glance towards the goblet and noticed crumpled pieces of parchment strewn around it.

"Oh! Hello, Merlin," Rocelin said, his voice tight and expression almost wary. "I thought you'd already left to see Lyfeld."

"I was just on my way," the warlock replied. "Where's Corvus?" He'd thought the two had gone to the library to research an assignment Merlin had already finished.

"Library. He wanted to check one more thing and told me not to wait up."

"Did you have any luck with the DADA assignment."

"Not at all," Rocelin's visage cleared. "There was quite the show at the library today, though. Two Beauxbaton guys got into a row with a fifth year Gryffindor over something. Corvus and I didn't see that part. They were about ready to curse each other when Madam Avery broke up the fight. It was rather disappointing."

"I'm sure you'll learn some new curses some other time," Merlin assured him.

"Well, of course, but I did want to see a duel."

"Perhaps you should take your complaints to Madam Avery." Rocelin laughed.

"Yes, I'm sure she'd teach me a new hex right there." The blond grinned. "Well, I suppose you'd best be off, Merlin." His brow furrowed slightly. "Wouldn't want to keep Lyfeld waiting."

"No, I guess not." Merlin started walking again. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah! If Lyfeld lets you go before I fall asleep!" The old warlock waved to his friend and began his trek towards the charms teacher's office once again.

/

"Wouldn't that be suspicious?" Merlin asked Lyfeld. When Merlin told the professor that he would like to take up the challenge of participating in the tournament, the two had immediately gotten to work, trying to plan the best way for Merlin to enter the competition. "I mean, erasing people's memories would be noticed eventually."

"Yes, but I figure we could pull it off," Lyfeld said.

"It sounds like a bad idea, and, trust me, I've had plenty of those."

"What do we do then? There's not much we haven't thought of."

"Ask the headmistress, perhaps. I'm sure she would allow it. And she could help us come up with a solution."

"I don't know if that's a good idea." They'd been over this before. Merlin supporting the idea of telling Ryall and Lyfeld against it. "The more people that know-"

"She's the headmistress, she'll probably find out one way or another. In fact, she probably already knows!" And the more Merlin thought about it, the more it seemed it would be odd if she didn't already know. He assumed she oversaw the delivery of admission letters, or of regulating the students who came in each year. In fact, she'd probably been pestering him with owls since she became headmistress. "She should know about it anyway. Hogwarts is her school."

"I suppose. In the end, it really is your decision. It's your secret, not mine."

"I know. I'd just like to have your support is all."

"You'll have it either way. I trust you know better than I do about this sort of thing." The professor shrugged. "It may be that your name doesn't get picked and all our contemplating has been for naught."

"It could be." Merlin's eyes found the night sky. The stars twinkled, reminding him of the late hour, and he was suddenly very tired. "I should probably go," he said after a long pause. "I don't want to fall asleep in my breakfast tomorrow." He gave Lyfeld a smile.

"Yes," the man agreed, "and I've got a class to teach." The two bid each other good night, and Merlin began his clandestine journey back to the Slytherin common room. The hour was late, and, if he was caught out of bed, it was likely he'd get into some sort of trouble.

/

There was a single inhabitant of the Slytherin common room that night. Rocelin was sitting in a plush green armchair by the fireplace, reading through a finished assignment as Merlin made his way to their shared chambers. At Merlin's entrance, Rocelin looked up, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Where's Corvus?" Merlin asked, something foreboding stirring in his gut.

"He went to bed about half an hour ago," Rocelin replied, still eyeing the warlock.

"What are you doing up, then?" Rocelin paused for a time, considering Merlin's question. With his contemplative look and his head bent slightly to one side, the odd visage that had bothered Merlin slipped quickly away. Unfortunately, it did not last, for when Rocelin fixed Merlin with his gaze again, the expression had reappeared, this time colder.

"Waiting," he said, then continued. "I know the summoning spell." Merlin swallowed. "I _know_ I know it." He paused, studying Merlin intently. "You saw me at the goblet. I tried to pull pieces of parchment from inside the barrier, and I couldn't. They would not move." At that, Merlin's stomach dropped, and, for a moment, he saw another in Rocelin's place, a blond-haired, blue eyed king who had been deceived by his closest friend. He blinked, and the image was gone, but the sinking feeling remained.

"Rocelin-"

"Who _are_ you?" Rocelin was openly glaring now. "You're not eleven, I'm certain of that." There was another long pause as the two Slytherins had a silent standoff. Merlin unwilling to share his secret, and Rocelin unwilling to back down.

"I-" Merlin started.

"Don't lie," Rocelin said, his words held the bitter edge of blades. Again, the room was silent but for the crackling of the fire which offered no comforting heat to balance the iciness in the air.

"I'm Merlin." Rocelin shook his head.

"But what more than that? You aren't just Merlin."

"Yes I am. That's all I ever was. Just Merlin." The warlock willed the boy to understand, he didn't want to have to go into more detail at all.

"You can't-" And then understanding dawned. "What?" the blond said, shock forcing his voice to a whisper.

"I'm Merlin." Rocelin's eyes grew wide and all signs of harshness vanished from his face at these words.

"You're Merlin?" He stood from the armchair, his essay falling, forgotten, from his lap.

"I've been telling you that," said Merlin, forcing a smile. Rocelin was still staring at him, but somehow his shocked understanding was worse than his calculating gaze.

Then his expression shifted into one of doubtful amusement.

"You told everyone your name was Merlin," Rocelin said. "That was awfully brash of you."

"You didn't realize."

"You aren't lying?" Rocelin examined him slowly. "You're not lying." All the younger boy's dubiousness seemed to vanish. "Does anyone else know?"

"Lyfeld does. And I will tell the headmistress tomorrow."

"You mean you haven't told Ryall? Shouldn't she be the first to know?" Rocelin looked at him incredulously.

"I didn't intend for anyone to find out," Merlin confessed.

"Then how did Lyfeld figure it out?"

"He put wards on his classroom." At that, Rocelin chuckled, his posture losing its almost wooden stance. This quick change in demeanor allowed Merlin to release a tension he didn't realize he held as he reclined into the couch opposite the blond.

"I can't say I'm surprised." Rocelin sat back down. "He strikes me as the kind of person who would." The pause that followed was awkward, but not as uncomfortable as those before.

"How did you find out?" Merlin asked. "Do I really do that poor a job of being eleven?"

"It's not that bad." Rocelin smiled. "In fact, if you hadn't pulled the slip of parchment away from the goblet, I doubt I would have figured it out."

"It's just my rash decisions then."

"That, and, well, your eyes."

"What about them?"

"They look old, like you've seen a lot. My mother tells stories about people with eyes like yours, but I didn't really believe they existed. Until now, that is." The blond's face flushed slightly. "How old are you?"

"Old enough." Silence fell again and the two listened to the fire as it crackled beside them.

After a while, Rocelin whispered, "Are you going to tell Corvus?" Merlin, who's eyes had wandered to the fire, turned his head.

"I can't. The less people that know, the better."

"You sound like you've done this before."

"I have." And then the warlock stood, unwilling to delve more into his past than was absolutely necessary. "I'm going to bed," he announced and strode from the room.

As he left, he barely heard Rocelin's whispered exclamation of astonishment.

" _Sweet Merlin!_ "

Merlin smiled to himself, perhaps allowing people to really know him _wouldn't_ be so bad this time around.

* * *

A/N: Yeah... This is pretty late and for that I apologize. Clearly, I can't keep a schedule.

Either way, I hope everyone has a great year, and I wish you all the best!

Thanks for reading!


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